


Ma Lumière Au Bout Du Tunnel

by MohawkAssassin



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MohawkAssassin/pseuds/MohawkAssassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My Light at the end of The Tunnel"<br/>A short one-shot, pertaining the aftermath of Assassin's Creed: Unity.<br/>Warning: Contains major spoilers of the in-game story, so please be aware.<br/>I own nothing. Arno & Élise belong to Ubisoft. The translations to any French words are below.<br/>Enjoy, don't forget to rate and comment!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma Lumière Au Bout Du Tunnel

            I sit with my legs crossed and my hands resting upon my knees. I am not praying, I am not begging to any supreme being, well, if there _was_ one. I come here for peace whenever I am able. Sometimes for a few moments, sometimes a bit longer. I recall one night I unwillingly fell asleep at this particular spot. It was not until a guard came and shook me awake:

            _Monsieur, est-ce que tout va bien?_

_Quoi-…? Oui. Oui, c’est rien. Merci._

He shrugged it off with a forceful smile and continued his usual patrol. I followed him with my eyes shortly before looking in front again. He knew who I was. He knew I would come here on a regular basis, and would not dare to ask. Maybe he did not need to. Was it not already clear?

 _**ÉLISE** _ **_DE LASERRE. 1768 – 1794_ **

It pains me. It pains me to know that she is gone. To see her name carved upon this headstone. I reach my hand towards the rocky surface as my knees dig into the moist dirt below. My fingers run all over, yearning for more. It is the only thing I can feel now. Hunger. No delicate, porcelain skin to caress my desire. No silky, flaming hair to coil up my heart. No icy, blue eyes to mirror my soul. I realized this when I held her for the last time in my arms, when her heart stopped playing her melancholic symphony of life. Élise was not a woman; she was a storm of flames. Her touch was a spark of excitement and her kisses thunderous. Everything about her was intoxicating, concerning both the mind and body. For now, all I can articulate is… “ _Why not me, why her?_ ”

            Memories drawn with her presence flow into me. The moment I first saw her, I knew she would be trouble. She gave me a hard time, yes. But I secretly enjoyed every moment of it. We were two young children, oblivious of the world that lied beyond the riches and liberty Versailles had offered us. I wish I was not obliged to face the cold gaze of reality. But it was inevitable. As was this bond, this love we both shared to dissipate. Looking back at it all, I wonder where it went completely wrong. Was it my Creed, or her Order? Was I far too late to save her?

            The wind blows gently and I am sure I can hear her brittle voice speaking to me, murmuring amorously into my ears: _“Je t’aime. Arno, Je t’aime…”_ These were the words she would whisper to me during sleepless nights and illicit encounters, with nothing but the lonely moon to witness our hapless fate.

            But alas, Élise was never really mine. She was a free spirit and that is how she wished to remain. She was a prisoner to her own soul, interned to be driven into streets shrouded with vengeance and paved with lies. And I came to realize that I never had her, only a delightful illusion of her. I used to get euphoric with her light, drunk with her charm and so I collapsed with her love.

            I feel the need to go, for I have already let out another portion of my despondency and do not wish to succumb into memories just yet. The somnolent weather would trick me into spending the night here again. Before I stand, I reach my hand out and carry away the wilted flowers that were collected by the persistent visits. I make a promise to Élise that I will return again with a fresh bouquet of lilies, her favorite. As I walk the empty road, I begin to think about the Brotherhood. I am part of it once more, and this time to expiate for my troublesome behavior. Despite our rivalry, I know she is proud of me and that she is smiling from above. Her loss brought some dose of responsibility in me and I will be forever grateful. I swear on her and on all we held dear, that I shall serve my Creed and help France gain its glory and shine once more as Europe’s Northern Star. For with every severed root, a new seed is sure to fall. This is my troth, my word of honor. This is my hope for a new beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Monsieur, est-ce que tout va bien? - Sir, is everything going well?
> 
>  
> 
> Quoi-…? Oui. Oui, c’est rien. Merci. - What...? Yes. Yes, it's nothing. Thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> Je t'aime - I love you


End file.
